Freedom
by summerstwilight
Summary: CotPB AU of the island scene. Another little take of the island scene. JE, slightly angsty.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Freedom  
Rating: PG  
Pairing: J/E  
Warnings: none regarding story, but this hasn't been beta'd.  
Summary: CotPB AU. Another little take on the island scenes.  
Disclaimer: None of its mine, all of it is Disney, and I'm making no money from it.  
Feedback: Oh, yes please. The ending is slightly… clumsy and I would love any advice on how to fix that.

The soft island breeze tousled her hair, sending it into the air, wind tossed lines of gold glowing bright in the firelight. She giggles as she catches the sight, amused and delighted at her own loveliness. She looks through the leaping flames to Jack's dancing form. In the rum filled haze of the night, she swears she sees more of a sparrow then a pirate captain. He is fairly screaming her little pirate song, and a certain joy radiates through his voice that she has not heard except when the _Black Pearl_ is mentioned. She dances toward him, and they catch each other around the waist, comrades in rum. She softly falls onto the soft sand, pulling him down next to her.

She can only half hear what he is saying, and cannot tell at all what she is saying back to him. The rum is having its way with her, little though she had. It has ravaged her more thoroughly then any man or pirate could. She vaguely hears him as he talks about ships.

"See it's not just a keel and a rudder and sails; that's what a ship _needs._ What a ship _is_, what the _Black Pearl_ really _is_, is freedom." He strikes a comical pose: hands outstretched to the darkened horizon, kohl smudged, mustache oddly askew. Yet for all of the comical exterior, Elizabeth glimpses what she thinks might be Jack: a man, still young at heart, who longs only from freedom. There is a sobriety and sincerity in his voice that she cannot mistake, even in her sorry state. It gives her pause. Even his bawdy innuendo does not shake her conviction.

"To freedom."

"To the _Black Pearl_." He agrees. They both took a hearty swig of the rum. Elizabeth choked on hers slightly.

Jack laughed. "The lady objects to the drink?"

"Of course. It's perfectly vile." Still, she cannot dislodge the delicious red haze that has settled on her.

"Jack?"  
"Yes, love?"

"We'll be rescued, won't we?"  
"Don't know, love." His voice softened.

"Do you know, I don't know that I want to be?" her voice lowered to a questioning tone. Jack turned toward her, his trinkets tinkling softly. They reminded Elizabeth of a music box, with all its delicacy. Jack had to repeat himself to draw her from her reverie. "What?"

"I said why would you want to stay here?"

Elizabeth leaned into him until she was a hairsbreadth from him. She looked him straight in the eye, gazing into those dark, soul bearing eyes. "Freedom." She whispered. She leaned closer, her lips slowly touching his.

He tasted like infinite regret, a promise unkept. Salt, sea, and rum. Freedom and confinement. He was all of what she thought and nothing like she expected. She kissed him harder, as though his kiss were the key to unlock the cage that bound her. Slowly they moved closer to each other, her hands stealing up to his chest, his hands running through her hair and exploring the neckline of her bodice.

With a start, Elizabeth shivered and woke up. Tangled in her own bed, she found that the hand in her hair was her own and the feather soft sensation on her lips was an ocean breeze that had pushed the window open. She tossed and turned to free herself of the bedclothes. Pulling her knees into her chest, she curled up. She only remembered that night in dreams. The point at which reality ended and fantasy began had long since faded into oblivion. What was her, or Jack, or rum, or pure imagination, she didn't know. She only knew that she had felt guilty about burning the rum, that she had had the decency to look ashamed of herself after Jack had stormed off, that there was some kinship now between her and Jack. She fancied that she remembered a look of sadness on his face that morning. But then, he had been sober, which was not his wont.

Yet every night she rocked herself to sleep, hoping her dream wasn't just a dream. Every morning when she saw Will, she pretended that he didn't remind her of the dark eyed pirate king. Every moment of every day she fought the urge to touch the necklace that hangs underneath her dress—the small golden sparrow that she found in a small shop. She imagines that it has always been associated with him—just as she wishes she had.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Freedom  
Rating: PG  
Pairing: J/E  
Warnings: none regarding story, but this hasn't been beta'd.  
Summary: CotPB AU,DMCAnother little take on the island scenes, and how it affects Elizabeth on board the _Pearl_  
Disclaimer: None of its mine, all of it is Disney, and I'm making no money from it.  
Feedback: Oh, yes please. This is a middle chapter, so it's a bit odd on it's own.

Chapter 2

Elizabeth doesn't care for the situation. She has been on the _Pearl_ for nearly three days, and for those nights her dreams have returned. They had disappeared when she began planning for her wedding, and little wonder that they did. But now, somehow, she found herself in a position she had thought relegated only to dreams. And somehow, that made her other dream the more real.

It certainly did not help that James Norrington had reappeared, and seemed to hover everywhere she turned, even more present then Jack. It certainly doesn't help that he seems to see through her as he never did before. Apparently what the world gifted him as it destroyed him.

She paces the decks of the Pearl for the third straight night. The salt air hardly clears her mind, but it does distract. She pauses, gripping the rail of the ship. She hangs her head, running a tired hand through her hair. Her breathing is ragged, as it always is when she realizes the situation she is in.

She loves him. Both of them. Her love of Will was never in doubt, until she admitted to herself that she loved Jack. It had not been until the night before that she had admitted that, even to herself. She starts to scream out to sea, but the scream gets caught in her throat, and leaves her chocking and gasping, clinging to the rail. She stamps a foot in frustration, leaning down to lay her head down.

"Has Miss Swann finally reached the end of her rope?" Norrington swaggered over to her.

"That's hardly funny." Elizabeth looked at him with disdain.

"I forget. You are bound for the wrong end of the gallows." Norrington smirked.

"So are you." Elizabeth turned to face him.

"Yes, but I have a way out."

"Have you now?"

"I have. And I have no loyalty to Sparrow."

"Nor I." Elizabeth tossed her head back, defying him to call her bluff.

"You were always a horrible liar, Elizabeth. You're lucky Will isn't here to see you look at him, or he'd be dead." Norrington spat it out, driving the word into her brain.

"How do you figure that, Commodore? Oh wait; you aren't a commodore anymore are you?"

"There was a time when you could hurt me, Elizabeth. That time has long since passed." Norrington's tone went from pointed to resigned.

"Do not make me pull a weapon on you as I did on your friend."

"Cutler Beckett is no one's friend but his own. Besides, you didn't have the courage to shoot him."

"Are you challenging me, James?" Elizabeth sounded offended, excited, and hurt in the same instant. Her hand stole softly to the cutlass she had strapped to her side.

"Perhaps. Do you know how to handle a sword? Did your pirate teach you?"

"Will taught me." She pulled the sword out, pointing it at Norrington. He grinned, pulling his own sword out.

The two circled each other slowly, neither making a move, simply waiting for the other to move. Frustrated, Elizabeth finally flinched, moving the sword toward Norrington in a high arc. He blocked it, the metal ringing sharply in the night air. "Well enough, Elizabeth."

"When did you lose your sense of propriety, James?"

"Probably around the same time you lost yours, Elizabeth. The rum doesn't hurt, does it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Elizabeth took the offensive, driving Norrington quickly across the deck. He blocked each blow, his smile staying place.

"You want me to believe that you came on board this ship and fell for Jack Sparrow completely under your own power? I would admit to the rum. It sounds better."

"Only to a rum addled sailor like yourself." Elizabeth swung at Norrington, beginning to lose her form in her rage. Norrington blocked her easily and knocked her sword away. Elizabeth watched it fly away, then began to kick at him, trying to reach his face. "You wretch. You know not of what you speak and you insult me and Will."

Norrington grabbed her wrists and held her at arms length. "Oh, my dear, I do indeed know what I talk about. You love him."

"Who?"

"Sparrow." Norrington sneered. "You've become a pirate, Elizabeth, and you've decided that a good man isn't good enough for you. Perhaps Will will get to taste the same defeat I did. It's actually funny." Norrington smirked.

"You're drunk." Elizabeth yelled. "How dare you insult Will and myself!"

"Perhaps I am drunk, but you are disloyal. And that is far worse my dear." Norrington bowed slightly, sheathing his sword and walking away.


	3. Torn

Title: Freedom  
Rating: PG  
Pairing: J/E  
Summary: CotPB AU Another little take on the island scenes, fitting into the DMC story arc with the reprecussions.  
Disclaimer: None of its mine, all of it is Disney, and I'm making no money from it.  
Feedback: Oh, yes please.

Chapter 3: Torn

Elizabeth walked over to her sword, picking it up and placing it carefully in her sheath. Norrington's accusations had struck her heart's core. She had tried not to think of the conflict that was in her heart, but Norrington had pierced the shell she had put over her thoughts and worries as effectively as any sword. Her only protection thus far had been the fact that Jack cared little for her.

She sat heavily on the step, left to her thoughts. Her mind turned to Will. He had left to find Jack, his only goal to save her throat from the hangman's noose. He had gone even so far as to face Davey Jones himself to find a way. Granted, she didn't understand how that helped him recover the compass which was still hanging from Jack's waist. She half expected that it would do absolutely nothing to take the compass from him, but she had to find a way to take it from him before she would ask him about it. Jack was not the type of man to give anything for free. Her willingness to do almost anything for the compass scared her.

Will did nothing without just cause, nothing without thought. He was reasonable, he was careful, and he loved her. It should have been enough. And suddenly, it wasn't. The thought of being married and tied to a smithy or the service almost disgusted her. It made her heartsick. It made her wish with all her heart to seek solace in the arms of a pirate, a rum soaked, wobbly legged pirate.

Elizabeth collapses slowly onto the deck, drawing her knees to her chest. Norrington's accusations echo over and over in her head: "Perhaps I am drunk, but you are disloyal. And that is far worse my dear." Was he right? Had she lost all that she ever was?

Once she was a governor's daughter, part of the highest rung of society, a princess on her own little Caribbean island. She had dreamed, oh how she had dreamed. She had dreamed of danger, adventure, pirates, Jack Sparrow. She had dreamed of Will. Dear, sweet Will, who she might not ever see again. Dear, sweet Will who had been stupid enough to trust Jack Sparrow at his word, to go to Davy Jones himself and ask for the key. He had left Port Royal with a single thought on his mind: finding Jack and his compass so that she would not swing from the hangman's noose.

Elizabeth ran a hand roughly over her neck. It hardly felt worth saving anymore. Would Will have been so self sacrificing if he knew the truth? If he knew that her dreams of him, of their wedding, of their future life and children had disappeared, replaced by dreams of sea and salt and freedom? Freedom in the arms of another man? She had been his prize so long, thought she wanted nothing else. She had fought for him, sailed across the Caribbean to find him, pledged herself to another man to ensure his rescue.

The problem was that she had found her match. Will was dear, and she would always love him, but he was so different from her, underneath it all. Jack… Jack was the same. He was salt sea air and freedom. He understood the draw of the point where water and air meet, that far off horizon. He understood her, to the point that it frightened her. There was something not quite safe about him, and it fascinated her as it tore her in two.

The island had been entirely the fault of rum. But these thoughts, these feelings, the guilt at realizing that she was in love with another man… She stopped mid-thought. She couldn't be in love, not with Jack. Could she? And suddenly it made sense. Her intense rage at both James and Jack, her pig headed stubbornness about finding Will. She had been trying to convince herself that only Will mattered. But he wasn't the only one anymore. She suddenly, without any warning, found herself _caring_ about Jack Sparrow. She cared what happened to him, cared what he did.

When she had realized that she loved Will, she had been filled with a sudden weightless joy. Every burden could be suffered, every hardship easy because of her love. When she realized that she loved Jack, she felt a sharp pang where her heart was. She had given her heart to Will, and he had given her his. Now, she was willing to throw it away, to lock it up and bury like Davy Jones himself for the chance of loving a pirate. She could not love them both, could not have them both, and yet she found that it was the one thing she wanted most in the world.

Elizabeth stood up quickly, walking toward the bow of the boat. She ran her hands over her arms, through her hair, distraught at the thought of it all. She wanted to leave it, wanted to go back to how she had been, the girl she once was.

"Why?" she whispered aloud, a single tear trickling down her cheek. She stood still, gazing into the moonlight. The sea whispered softly, lapping at the _Pearl's_ hull. She drew some comfort from it, knowing that she was neither the first nor last to love Jack Sparrow. She would find a way through as she suspected he always did: through the sea. She turned then, brushing her tear away and walking back to her cabin.

And from his place in the shadows, Jack Sparrow slowly moved so that he could watch her walk slowly away, the walk of the resigned. And for once in his life, Jack Sparrow felt a pang of sorrow and regret at making a woman love him.


End file.
